


can't get over you

by niniadepapa



Series: braids [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, another au kinda in 'braids' universe, jealous!killian is my fav, love is friendship in fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/pseuds/niniadepapa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jealousy, turning saints into the sea<br/>swimming through sick lullabies</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't get over you

He was late. He was  _horribly_  late, but they had kept him for another extremely long hour, and then his boss had asked him to come over to his office and have a chat about some designs he wanted to check over with him, even if he had tried to very subtly let him know he was late to an appointment, the man hadn’t seemed to get the hint. 

Alas, he was late. 

He made his way into the pub a little too hastily, earning the shocked looks from clients sitting next to the entrance. He tried a sheepish smile and walked inside, nodding at the bartender, who already knew him from countless other times he had been in there with the clique. Not even bothering to look around, he strode to the back of the place and found them sitting at their table. He frowned as he counted them - it was supposed to be six of them, but there were only three people sitting there. Robin had texted him already saying he’d be late, though Killian had thought his friend wouldn’t be as late as him, but where was she…?

David caught his eye and waved a hand in the air. “Hey, Killian! Over here!”

He grinned as he approached them, kissing Mary Margaret in the cheek and thumping her fiancé in the back good-naturedly. “Hi there.” He turned to face his new acquaintance, putting a hand over his shoulder in recognition. “Nice to see you again.”

Graham nodded, smiling fondly at their surroundings. “It’s good to be home. Were you at the office?”

“Yeah - had to wrap some things up, came as soon as I was done,” he explained, ridding himself of his jacket and pulling out a chair for himself. David signaled at the both of them with his beer. 

“I just had to have the two Irish wonders together.”

Killian shared a look with Graham before rolling his eyes at his friend, but gave in and cracked a smile when he heard Mary Margaret’s giggling. Knocking on the cracked wood of their table - where he could even see some of the scratches Leroy and he had left one wild night spent in that same bar - he called for their attention.

“So. What were you guys up to?”

David shrugged. “Nothing much. Going down memory lane.”

“Drinking,” Mary Margaret pointed out, nodding towards the empty bottles littering the table.  

Graham grinned impishly, lowering his voice. “Trying to break into Emma’s phone so I can troll her twitter.”

At the mention of her name, his heart raced up. She was there already? Where was she? Had she fled when she saw he was there? They had been acting pretty much the same for the sake of others - and for their sakes, he supposed. They knew it was all a show, - a horrible show, mind you, mainly due to the fact that he wasn’t sure he was pulling off some of the lingering feelings he had harbored for her for the past year.

Especially not after the incident.

Or, dare he say it,  _several_  incidents.

Nor did he miss some of the looks she gave him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way she’d bite her lip when he laughed at something someone would say, or how she’d flush so prettily when he complimented her looks or her clothes - as he had always done since day one, because, well, he liked to think himself a gentleman over everything else.

Every move, every conversation they shared, every surreptitious glance sent their way - it was pure torture. 

And what a  _sweet_ ,  _wrong_  torture indeed.

He was brought out of his daze when the object of such painful thoughts showed up at Graham’s other side, leaning on his shoulder with a familiarity that made Killian rise an eyebrow curiously. “Making fun of his new walk.”

Killian joined in the group’s laughs, and eyed Graham as he scowled at Emma. “Thank you for joining us again, Swan.”

She smiled smugly at her former partner, patting him on the back of his head. Again, Killian had to restrain himself from commenting on it.  _God, what was wrong with him._  “You’re welcome, Humbert. I will have my phone back now, if you please.”

Graham lifted his arms, trying to appear bewildered. “I didn’t do anything.”

“For  _once_ ,” she said, tugging her phone from his hand even when he tried to keep it. He finally let her take it, pouting. 

“I promised you I wouldn’t.”

She sighed dramatically. “You also promised not to mock me for that hijacking thing with the diet program and you did.”

“I already apologized.”

Shooting him a glare, she crossed her arms over her chest, cocking an eyebrow. Killian felt oddly proud - he had taught her how to properly do it one night, when she had begged for him to show her how to do it. They had laughed for hours at her failed attempts, and he was sure his phone had never been so full of selfies as that night while they practiced. “Not good enough.”

Graham threw his hands in the air. “What do you want me to do?”

Smiling cheekily, she sipped from her glass. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”

Pulse racing, he would have missed the sultry tone her voice had taken if he hadn’t been so aware of everything she did. He didn’t miss either the widening of Graham’s eyes, or the way he licked his lips almost imperceptibly. Graham shook his head at her, pointing one accusing finger in her direction. “You’re horrible.”

She grinned, - a proper, wide, brilliant grin, one he hadn’t seen in weeks, months - one that he had seen on her face directed at him countless times. But not anymore. “ _You_  are horrible.”

“You missed me,” Graham countered, eyes crinkling, and Emma huffed in response. 

“Not true.”

“She did,” David pointed out, and shrugged when Emma shot daggers in his direction. 

“I didn’t.”

Graham laughed at her stubbornness - and how could he not? She was adorable when she pouted - and draped an arm over her shoulder, shaking her against him and pulling her closer to his side. “Come on, Em. Here, look what I brought, especially for you.”

As he dug something inside his back pocket, Emma stared at him, wide-eyed and marveled, like she had never been given a surprise or a gift in her entire life. “You brought  _me_ something?”

“Don’t get  _that_  excited, I don’t want to let you down,” he warned, and with a victorious sound under his breath, pulled out a black, small object that Killian couldn’t identify at first sight. He gave it to her with a flourish. “Your favorite.”

She just stood there, completely in awe, taking it from him and unfolding it to reveal a bunch of fake mustaches. “Oh my  _God_ ,” she practically squealed, and jumped into Graham’s arms, hugging him with all her might and joining his delighted laugh. “It’s like old times!” 

He had to look away. God, he had to. Would it be too obvious if he left for the bathroom? Or if he went to the bar? Or if he plain left? He knew Graham and she were close; she had told him how much she missed her friend from the time he had been working along with them before he moved and how she wished he’d be around more. But somehow, Killian had thought that, previous to their…. affair - and God, how  _awful_  and  _dirty_  that word was to sum up what they had, what had transpired between them, what there  _still_  was there even if they didn’t act on it - he had filled that hole that Graham had left; that he had become her rock, her friend, if not her best, one of the closest ones. As connected at the hip she and Mary Margaret may be, the other woman  _was_  most of the time with David, and he knew from experience how third-wheel she could feel whenever they were together, even if she genuinely enjoyed their company. 

And now he wondered if, by having Milah in town with them, Emma might have felt not just the third wheel, but the fifth, seventh one; issues and feelings with him withstanding. 

Finally freeing herself from Graham, she picked up the first mustache and put it over his lips as he puckered them playfully. Killian turned from them, trying to hide the pain in his eyes at the way Graham tugged on her hand and she slapped it with a giggle, and he found himself face to face with Robin.

“Hey man.”

He half-hugged him briefly, never having been so glad to see his mate - even if it was just to distract himself from the scene he was being witness of. “Hey - where were you?”

“Had to go home to drop some things. You ordered already?,” Robin wondered, staring at Killian’s empty hand with a frown. He shook his head. 

“No, I was going to right now.”

Before he could leave for the bar, though, Robin was calling out loudly. “Swan! You didn’t order for us? Rude.”

Emma rounded in his direction, fake mustache already on and grin plastered over her face, and Killian gulped loudly at how radiant and happy she looked - without his help.  _Fuck, it hurt._  “You can walk to the bar and do it yourself, you know.”

Robin pouted. 

“I am your future fiancé or so I hear, Swan. I deserve a beer!”

Killian hid his face behind his hand. There they went  _again_. 

Emma turned red in matter of seconds. “You were  _not_  supposed to know about that stupid game so tough luck, buddy.”

Rumor said that one night Ruby and Emma had indulged in too many drinks and when dared to play  _kill, marry, fuck_ , Emma’s answers had been pretty interesting. 

Robin made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, and Killian had to smile at him. Turning to face the group, the brit waved his hands in the air frantically. “Guys, a little help here?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “You know I never interfere. Especially just to get you a beer.”

At David’s negative, Robin turned to Killiam with what they had dubbed the ‘puppy Locksley’s eyes’. “Killian?”

Sighing dramatically, Killian patted him in the back and made to leave for the bar. “I’ll go for your beer just so you’ll shut up.”

Trying to hide his mirth - what a lazy arse he was, for Christ’s sake - he bumped him in the shoulder with a chuckle. “You’re just pissed off because she said she’d rather fuck you than marry you. Come on.”

At that, David and Mary Margaret ‘oooh’ed in unison, and Killian had to bite down a groan. _Here we go again, the encore_.  

Fan-tas-tic.

“Hey, we should ask Graham - what do you think?,” Robin suddenly inquired, pulling his chair closer to the other man, all ears and intent eyes that the rest of them promptly mimicked, eagerly wanting to hear his input. At their enthusiasm, Graham’s face morphed into an apologetic smile. 

“You really don’t want my opinion.”

Emma frowned at that, wondering aloud with a squeak, “Why not?”

Finishing the last remains of his beer, he left it over the table and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “It’s just that that game was a sham because I wasn’t an option, so any other answers are stupid anyway.”

David cackled merrily, whereas Emma just shook her head at him, putting her hands on her hips. The same pose she always used to tell Killian off when he said something terrible. “You’re horrible.”

“ _You_  are horrible,” Graham said, and looped an arm around her waist. Killian could swear he could hear his teeth gritting as he saw him yanking her to him, fingers grazing the bare patch of skin exposed by her shirt. “Look at these guys - one totally smells like forest or so they tell me, the other one apparently wore eyeliner one night, and David is for all intents your  _brother_ … come  _on_ , Emma.”

And, for the very first time that night, when Graham was pointing at Killian, she  _looked_  at him. She had been trying so hard not to cross glances, not to directly approach him or talk to him, and it hurt. 

It hurt like  _hell_.

But, picking up the terrified spark in her eyes once they finally stared at each other, the quiet shudder he could spy taking over her body, he realized it was fairly easier to be around him if she acted like he wasn’t. Like he was someone else, someone who wasn’t especial, someone who hadn’t poured his heart out to her or shared his fears and problems with no hopes or expectations, just her quiet understanding and presence. Someone who hadn’t made her smile when she was at her worst, who hadn’t supported her through everything since they had met, someone who hadn’t kissed her. Who hadn’t fallen for her.

Someone who shouldn’t have fallen for her, but she had made it impossible. 

Shaking her head and effectively cutting their connection, she answered to Graham with a cold smile. “To be fair, you left me here alone with these so it’s not my fault.”

“I’m here now, am I not?” he said, and she just huffed, taking a pull from her beer even if the corners of her lips were already pulling in amusement. 

“Sure.”

She squealed and tried to squirm her way out from his grasp when he bit playfully her bare shoulder. “Come onnnnnn.”

And that was it for him; leaving his chair and almost toppling it in his haste to burn the scene from his brain - alcohol, yeah, he needed industrial amounts of it, maybe he would dare Robin at some stupid game of his he loved to come up with but most of them refused to indulge in, - he called out over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go fetch some beers.”

Robin blew him a kiss. “Thank you, Killian, you’re a sweetheart. I love you.”

God bless him. He chuckled and made as he caught the kiss midair and hid it inside his pocket. “I love you more.”

About to follow with some comeback, Mary Margaret slapped a hand over Robin’s mouth, making a disgusted sound. “Get out, Brokeback Mountain,” she said in Killian’s direction, waving her free hand towards the bar none-too-subtly. He bowed mockingly but the sound of _her_  laugh halted his steps.

“He’s blushing again.”

He inhaled sharply, fixing her with a look that he could swear could brand her, ruining her for anybody else; wishing he could go to her, put his hands over her, pull her against him, her back to his, kiss her neck or her shoulder, her temple, tug on her hair, hug her so tight to him until he could crawl inside her and stay there. 

Alas, she had just made a joke. At his expense. And she was laughing, a light in her eyes but finally at least because of him.

Even if it was Graham’s hands around her instead of his. Even if the sight killed him. Even if he wanted to chop the guy’s hand off.

But he didn’t. If this was all he could get, he would.

Even if it killed him.  

“I’m not,” he protested faintly, but she just laughed harder, pointing at his cheeks - and his heart fell once more, knowing that, at some other time, she would have probably gone to him and pinched them, eyes glinting in amusement and head thrown back in laughter.

“You are!”

With a frustrated ‘ugh’ tossed over his shoulder, he tried his best to ignore her tinkling laugh as he finally bought his and Robin’s beer. Or how from then on he mostly kept to himself, his drink and Robin, occasionally joining the group’s conversation but never once alone with her. 

And if there were yearning looks in her direction whenever she bursted out laughing at something Graham said, or a low growl masked by the ruckus in the bar and the music in the background when he touched her and she touched him in return, he wouldn’t admit it.


End file.
